


Taking Hold

by cadkitten



Category: Dir en grey, Merry (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exhibitionism, Graphic Description, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rape, Sexual Violence, Stockholm Syndrome, Triggers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 00:38:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2487995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could still remember the first time he'd ever seen Kyo, and he could remember the last time he ever walked away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JujuBardie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JujuBardie/gifts).



> TRIGGER WARNING: READ THE TAGS. THIS IS GRAPHIC AND PSYCHOLOGICALLY TRAUMATIZING.  
> Note that Gara was known as Makoto back then, so he will be referenced as such throughout the fic. The request was for a fic wherein Gara is raped repeatedly by Kyo and develops Stockholm Syndrome in the meantime. - I do not condone rape and I do not see this as a means to glorify it in any way. Walk away from this with the same aching pit I wrote it with. If you'll excuse me... I think I need to bleach my soul now.  
> Beta Readers: sakura_ame  
> Song[s]: "Possession" by Sarah McLachlan

He could still remember the first time he'd ever seen Kyo, the way the other man had held himself in such esteem and presence. He walked like a man that knew he was king of his own divide. It helped that the way the other sneered in the face of virtually every reporter who wanted a piece of who he was, what he was making of himself. His answers were those of a snot-nosed teen while his air was that of an old and aching soul. Somewhere in his very early twenties, it just didn't seem the actual truth of the matter when Makoto really thought about it. 

He'd joined up with the band, more than willing to haul their equipment in exchange for being in the presence of this exciting man. And he'd earned his rightful place, hauled more than all the others combined, had the foresight that others couldn't even find, and pushed himself to become more and more noticeable to the vocalist of this incredible band.

Months passed before he finally got the chance to approach the man he idolized, excitement icing his veins as he trudged through the windy afternoon behind the vocalist, playing the role of the good guard for him. People tended to bother the smaller man to the point that it was easier to always have a roadie with him than it was to escape. Makoto could understand that. It was a necessary evil. But he played the part with gusto and pride that none of the others ever had when involved in such things.

Stepping into the darkened hallway behind the other, he secured the door and followed him down the pathway, entering the green room right behind him. He double-checked the hallway and then ensured the room was devoid of anyone who wasn't supposed to be there. Satisfied, he went back to his place at the door and remained there, hands behind his back and his posture rigid as he watched Kyo flit around the room, taking off his t-shirt and unfastening his jeans. Somehow... it was awkward, watching the man he held so high undress like this.

Averting his eyes, Makoto waited, hearing the sounds of things hitting the floor and other things being yanked around. After a minute or so, Kyo stepped into his field of vision again, this time utterly naked from the waist down, everything he was born with on full display. Shock swam through Makoto's veins and he flushed a bit, once again averting his gaze. He looked to the left instead, reaching one hand up to rub at his nose in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. 

Over the next ten minutes, he had to keep looking away, Kyo continuing to get within the scope of his gaze. The last time, it became more than obvious that he was doing it on purpose as the instant Makoto flicked his eyes up, he took in the smirk on the vocalist's face and the smug look of self-satisfaction at how uncomfortable the roadie was. Still... he didn't complain. Kyo was just a strange man, but he was still talented and that more than made up for it in his eyes.

The next week was plagued by similar events. Kyo following Makoto into the bathroom and blatantly starting to jerk off at the urinal right next to him, without so much as a consideration as to what else was going on. Every time, Makoto reacted much the same way; in shock and somewhat horror of what was happening.

But in the meantime, Kyo was also calling him aside and getting to know him better, asking him personal questions that formed the eager conquest of information like one would to a new friend. He wasn't hitting on him or anything else in those times. Quite simply, he was just a regular person, answering all of Makoto's questions in return without hesitation or restraint. It was nearly a severe juxtaposition between the two pieces of what all was going on.

One night, Kyo stumbled off stage, so drunk on the crowd that Makoto worried if he'd even make it to the back in one piece. As he'd unofficially become the vocalist's handler and assistant, he trailed after him down the hallway, just far enough behind that it made it seem like he wasn't really checking on the other, but more just going in the same direction. He rounded the corner and watched Kyo disappear into the mutual dressing room, miles ahead of any of the others. He knew their routines well enough and was aware that they'd give Kyo a requisite ten to fifteen minute window before they came toward the room at all. It was an easy mechanic that Makoto had yet to have fully understood.

He stepped into the room after Kyo, opening his mouth to ask the other if he needed anything. But the words died on his lips as the door closed behind him, the lock clicking into place. Kyo was leaning against the door, a look in his eyes that left Makoto's heart in his throat, leaving him wary and somewhat fearful of the other. But he couldn’t quite place why. Kyo had only closed the door and locked it, he hadn't lunged for him or taken out a knife and threatened him in any way, so there wasn't much to be afraid of. Especially since the other was a mere five foot two inches in height. There was nothing to be afraid of... right? No matter how much he told himself that, something in his mind screamed for him to find an exit and to make it quick.

But before he could really manage to try to find a way to get out of the room, an excuse to tell that he was needed somewhere else, Kyo began talking. It was amicable, easy chit-chat, just like the rest of what they'd been having for the past while. There was nothing to fear in that voice, in these words, and Makoto found himself relaxing easily. It took time, but eventually Kyo and he were seated on the couch, the vocalist shifting closer to him and then asking quietly if he could massage his thigh, a cramp starting to take hold.

It was, without a second thought, something that Makoto simply did. He reached for his thigh, giving him a questioning look to ensure it was the right one, and at the nod, he began to lightly massage it in an attempt to free the cramp from the other's body. Kyo urged his touch higher and higher, his voice gently commanding as he made just the right amount of noise about how his thigh was aching. Before long, Makoto had his hands far too close to the vocalist's crotch, his arm brushing over the significant bulge there as he worked. Each time Kyo shifted, it brought him in closer contact with Makoto's arm, his erection pressing against him there. But the movements were built in such a way that he was certain it was just an accident, every single time it happened. 

Nearly five more minutes passed before Kyo reached down and simply transferred Makoto's hand from his thigh to the bulge in his pants, hurriedly unfastening the zipper in the process. Even as Makoto tried to pull away, Kyo simply crowded him against the sofa, freeing his cock and pushing Makoto's hand against his length.

The flesh was warm beneath his fingertips and perhaps to another would have been invigorating. But to Makoto, it was revolting, something to make him sick to his stomach. He had no interest in the other and it shocked him that Kyo was willing to go so boldly past the lines of what was inherently _right_. No asking, just taking. He jerked his hand away, hissing in pain as his wrist wrenched slightly in the process. "Stop it," he breathed out. "Please... I don't-"

But then Kyo's hand was in his hair, holding him there with a clenching touch that was more powerful than it should have been as his mouth crashed into Makoto's own. His body moved over Makoto's, forcing him back even further into the small space as he once again pushed his hand against his cock, forcing his fingers to wrap around his shaft as he jerked Makoto's hand over him. 

Stunned, the roadie didn't move for a while, fear gripping him as he simply remained there beneath Kyo. What would happen if he pushed him further away? What if he more forcefully told him to stop? Would he listen or would it all become worse simply for his fighting it? Better yet... who the hell was this man over him? This wasn't the man he'd been talking to for so long over the past while. This was a monster wearing the skin of his idol and it scared him more than it should have.

By the time he got ahold of himself enough to start trying to push him away, he was whimpering. He shoved at Kyo with his free hand, trying to jerk the one around his cock away from him again. But Kyo's touch was like iron, holding him in place as if he'd been welded to him, their hands dancing in a frenzy over his shaft. Kyo let go of the kiss long enough to stare him right in the eyes for one heart-stopping moment, Makoto opening his mouth to utter half of the word _stop_ , never getting further into it than that before Kyo's other hand yanked on his hair again, causing him to cry out in pain.

A few more hasty jerks of their hands and then Kyo stiffened, letting out a groan as he started to cum, his release spilling onto Makoto's pants and the edge of his shirt as it dripped from their hands. 

A knock came on the door and the sound of the knob rattling just after before someone's voice from the other side called out, "C'mon man, seriously! Open up. I gotta piss but I have to get out of this first!"

With a grunt, Kyo shoved himself back from Makoto and smirked down at him, that ice-cold look back in his eyes again. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" He gestured at the roadie's pants, a mirthless laugh leaving him. "It got you hard, so I dunno what you were complaining about." 

And just like that... it was all over. Kyo fastened up his pants and Makoto hastily cleaned the cum off of his pants using some tissues from the table in front of the couch, pushing himself up and heading for the door. He unlocked it and looked up just long enough to see that it was Die nearly dancing on the other side of the door before he bolted past him and down the hall toward the facilities.

Five minutes found him in a stall, his pants and shirt wet from where he'd scrubbed off Kyo's leavings and his body shaking as he stood there, uncertain what had just happened. He didn't like it in his mind, felt violated and used... but his cock had other ideas, still firmly hard between his legs, letting the whole world know just how it had felt about the whole ordeal.

Even when he heard Die come in and start to relieve himself in one of the urinals, he simply stood there, one fist jammed against his mouth hard enough to hurt in an attempt to keep his whimpers inside.

The weeks had spiraled out from there, nothing more happening with Kyo, the vocalist actually seeming to avoid him for the first couple of days, even when he tried to go about doing his job, Kyo simply acted like he didn't see him or that he wasn't there. It was almost as if he were being silently dismissed, told to leave him alone without a single word to confirm or deny such suspicions. Without much else to do, he just went about his job, continuing forward with his life, doing his best to put what had gone down out of his mind. So Kyo was a bit of a jerk... all the same, he hadn't touched Makoto in unreasonable places, only had him get him off. Maybe... he simply thought it was a part of what a roadie was supposed to help him with. After all, he'd had female handlers prior to him, right?

Weeks turned into months and things returned to some semblance of normal between them. They would talk and even share an after-show drink with one another. The pair of them even went to a few after party events with one another, finding themselves in the corner of whatever club, talking the night away.

One such night, Kyo invited Makoto back to his place, luring him along with the promise of the newest video game and hot tea in the face of the cold winter night. And Makoto went without hesitation, his trust in this man utterly restored, having written off the incident as a miscommunication of what his job was supposed to be, though they never actually discussed it in the least.

For hours they sat in Kyo's small apartment, the pair of them playing the promised game and drinking tea early into the morning hours. By the time three am arrived, Makoto lay sprawled on the couch, passed out from a hard night of working followed by a long evening spent at the bar and then more time playing the wonderful new game Kyo had purchased. He slept soundly, warm and comfortable on the sofa... that was, until he woke with a startled gasp. 

For the first few seconds, he was simply confused. Where was he? Right... Kyo's apartment. What time was it? It was too dark to tell. Then what was it that had woken him up? All of those thoughts followed along his mind's path within no more than two seconds time from his startled waking. It took only a few seconds longer before he connected the ache of arousal between his legs with the fact that he was definitely on the receiving end of some sexual situation. 

More confusion flooded through him until his sleep-addled mind finally came to the conclusion that he had someone pressed tight against him from behind and that that same someone had their hand in his pants, just squeezing his cock again and again. Arousal slammed to the forefront for a moment before he came to grips with the fact that there was only one other person in this apartment and what that meant. His pants were pushed down a second later, the warmth of the other's body pressing against him before the hardened length of Kyo's cock began to press against his ass.

"No!" He clawed at the couch, regretting falling asleep facing the back of it. "Please stop! I don’t want this!" 

"Hush," came the muffled word from the vocalist. "You've let me touch you and blow you for the past half an hour with no complaint. Don't start now." His leg was shoved forward and a second later, it was followed by near-blinding pain as Kyo shoved his cock into his body.

"Oh gods, please no!" Makoto clawed at the back of the couch and then screamed as he was thrust into. His hips arched and he trembled. Lashing out, he began grabbing for anything he could, yanking at hair and scratching at Kyo's hand that was still around his cock, pumping him eagerly. "N-no!" He thrashed and kicked, pain lancing through his bare toes at the impact even as his fist hit solidly on Kyo's hip a few dozen times. But no matter what he did, the vocalist didn't relent, continuing to thrust into him and hold him pinned with his body. 

Sobbing through the pain in his rear, Makoto's heart raced. He gasped for air, feeling like the world was coming up to swallow him whole as he took this from the man he'd come to try and trust again. And, slowly, he began to stop struggling, the sobbing taking over. And still yet, his body betrayed him, his cock throbbing under the other's touch, his balls drawn up tight against his body in preparation for his orgasm. Slumping down, he closed his eyes and simply prepared to let it all finish. He couldn't stop it and he was only making the panic worse by flailing around. Maybe... just maybe... if he stopped struggling it'd be over faster.

A few horrible minutes later, his body had had quite enough, his orgasm finally overcoming him, flooding him with endorphins as he spurted his release all over the back of the couch and his own pants, which were around his thighs. Kyo pumped into him for a good minute longer, straining and then grunting as he started to cum. Makoto waited for the feeling of the other's release filling him, but it never came. And in a way, that was a relief. At least he'd used a condom to fuck him like this, given how rough he'd been... it was for the best.

Still quietly crying, he just kept his eyes shut and refused to respond in any way. Even when Kyo pulled out and moved away from him for a minute, he simply curled up tighter against the back of the couch, sliding his arms around his middle. 

Kyo returned quickly, easing down behind him on the couch and very gently starting to clean him up. He wiped up his cum and then cleaned his asshole, pulling his pants back up as well as he could without Makoto's cooperation. And then he curled himself around him, holding him flush against him and lightly kissing at his shoulder while he stroked over his hip. 

Exhaustion and the false comfort of Kyo's words finally lulled Makoto back into sleep. One would have thought he'd been trying to fight to get away, rushing from the apartment and screaming. But instead, he remained; perhaps resigned to what was happening to him... perhaps fearing what would come if he didn't stay.

The following nights of the tour had yielded fairly much the same things. Kyo remained calm and polite, the vocalist that Makoto had come to idolize through and through. And then after the show, he would turn into the monster wearing Kyo's flesh as its suit. He'd seek out Makoto, no matter where he went, track him down and find one way or another to relieve his sexual needs with him before turning into the sickly sweet person he'd become that night in the apartment, all caring words and gentle caresses.

Slowly, Makoto sank into a sort of mental hell of his own making. He came nearly every time he was with Kyo. Even when the vocalist had forced him to give him head, holding his jaw open by pinching it and fucking his mouth with his cock until he'd exploded in his mouth, Makoto had found his own cock rock-solid and dripping needily in his pants afterward. It left him feeling disgusting and useless, but all the same he'd made his way to the bathroom and relieved himself before going back to work.

For a while, he retained the knowledge that he was being raped. He knew for certain he'd said no so many times it had become a mantra, something he muttered every time he woke up in the dead of the night, something he nearly spat out at Kyo the instant he saw him. And yet... he didn't run away. He didn't quit his job and walk away from the whole mess. And worse, he knew what kept him. The man he'd idolized wanted him and that had to mean something more than he was allowing it to, didn't it? He found himself slowly turning around the way he was thinking about it.

And just like that, the justifications began. Kyo couldn’t help it. Maybe he had a mental condition that didn’t allow for proper impulse control. Perhaps he didn't realize Makoto wasn't joking when he said no and told him to stop. Some people played those games, right? And when he'd fought back, Kyo still hadn't really hurt him with anything other than the less-than-lubed passage of his cock. He'd not struck him or kicked him or anything more than pulling his hair. And people got off on that, didn't they? He was just a rough lover.

Resignation turned to acceptance and with it, Makoto simply took his place in the great scheme of things.

Late one night, Kyo showed up at his door, soaked to the bone with the pouring rain from outside, and Makoto let him in without a second thought. By the time he retrieved a towel for Kyo, the vocalist had stripped completely and followed him down the hallway. That was where it happened, just right there in the hallway that night. As he was pressed against the wall, his legs forced to spread to bring him to the proper height, he simply gave in. He rested against the wall without complaint, clutching the towel as Kyo yanked his pants down and thrust two fingers into his passage.

He didn't say no and he didn't beg for it to stop. This time, he simply stood there while the vocalist pushed his cock into his body and rutted against him like a wild animal. And when his cock responded to the situation, he didn't shudder in disgust when Kyo's hand wrapped around him and started to jerk him off. When he came, a soft moan leaving him as he spilled, Kyo slowed enough to simply rock into him, breathing out the strangest laughter against his shoulder.

"See, isn't it better this way?" The question rolled free of the vocalist's tongue as he smeared Makoto's own cum along his thigh and then grabbed his hip, fucking him hard and quick all the way to his own end. The feeling of his orgasm left Makoto feeling somewhat needy, vaguely interested in what was to come afterward this time.

It was with no great surprise that he ended up in the bed with Kyo a mere ten minutes later, the vocalist wrapped around him, his naked body pressed tight to Makoto's clothed own. 

From there, the transition had come easily to him, unnoticed in the path of the larger issues of recording another album. The rush left them separate more than it required them in the same room. But the moment they were thrust one another's paths, it was a near given that Makoto would find himself beneath Kyo in one way or another. Bent over a table here or fucked into the couch there. Once, he even found himself on his knees just out of view in the recording booth while Kyo worked on his vocals, the other's hard cock in his mouth.

Their unions turned from something he dreaded to something to he accepted... to something he looked forward to. He'd feel lost and withered in between, losing interest in all other things besides where Kyo was and why he wasn't with him. 

The first night out on tour yielded Kyo being an even more fervent singer than usual. He was nearly wild on stage, his antics deeper and more fucked up than they'd ever been before. And Makoto could only stare on in admiration, watching the other from the wings and waiting for his body to be the one that would relieve all of this in the end.

He wasn't wrong in his assumptions. The moment that Kyo entered the dressing room, he simply lashed out and grabbed Makoto, shoving him against the couch. Words of protest died on his lips as his pants were violently yanked down. It was without a single ounce of preamble that Kyo's cock was thrust into his body. A scream wrenched itself free of Makoto's throat as he stared in horror at the open door before him. His vision swam in the tears of agonized pain. He should have prepped... he should have known Kyo would be too worked up to care about if he could take his cock dry like this. And... no condom. Dear god, there was no condom. For the first time in all of this, there was nothing between them.

"What the ever living fuck is going on?!" The door slammed shut and within a few seconds, a red blur shot past him. And then Kyo was being wrenched off of him, basically thrown to the floor.

Makoto whimpered for a second, the shock of having Kyo's cock freed from his ass in such a hasty manner leaving him unable to process for a few precious seconds. Pain set in right behind it and then the knowledge of the sound of two men fighting one another seeped in. He jerked up from the couch and fumbled with his pants, trying to get the broken zipper to cooperate. Holding them up with one hand, he shoved himself away from the couch and stumbled over toward where Die was clearly winning this fight. "No! What are you doing?! I love him! Please stop, oh gods, please stop!"

Die took pause in that, his hand holding Kyo's hair clenched firmly, grip unyielding and his knee solidly in the vocalist's chest, anchoring him to the floor. 

Kyo gurgled a little, but didn't say a word. His nose was bloody and he looked like he'd definitely taken a solid punch to the eye as well, the area already swelling, a raw patch from Die's ring just beneath it.

Makoto stared down at him in horror, a war of emotions going through him in those precious seconds. He felt an overwhelming fear at how Kyo was having the crap kicked out of him... but at the same time, there was an unspeakable joy somewhere deep inside. Finally, his mouth engaged even though his body wouldn't move from where he'd ended up. "He didn't mean to. He can't help it."

"Excuse me?" Die's voice sounded horrified and very nearly offended. "Was he or was he not hurting you?"

First Makoto nodded and then he shook his head, looking astounded. "Yes, I mean... no. I... well... it hurt, but he didn't mean for it to." He looked back down at Kyo, a sick feeling welling up inside of him. "Did you?"

There was no response from the vocalist, he simply stared up at him with a look that he hadn't allowed himself to see in him in going on a year. The icy edge to his gaze left Makoto feeling empty and scared. He clutched his arms to himself, fingertips barely holding up his pants as he shivered harshly. 

Die's response was quiet and more than a little angry. "Oh, he meant to. How long has this been happening to you?"

Makoto lifted his shoulders, letting them sag back down as the tears welled up and began to spill down his face. "A long time," he finally breathed out, a waver to his voice as he stared down at Kyo's somewhat broken form. He looked so much less like the intimidating figure he'd been in Makoto's life for the past year in those moments. The blood pouring from his nose and the split in his lip making him look significantly weaker.

Anger rushed forward to replace the fear and a second later, he was kicking Kyo for all he was worth, shouting at him about how much of a son of a bitch he was, words like violator and rapist falling from his lips with each kick he got out. 

It took him a bit to even notice Die had given up on holding Kyo down and was simply removing Makoto instead. He calmed down only when his foot didn't connect with anything, finding himself being taken into the hallway and then transported to the bathroom where Die closed the door and leaned back against it, giving him a look that was filled with stunned shame. "Why... why didn't you tell someone?"

Makoto sagged against the vanity counter, feeling ill as he stared at Die in the wake of all that had happened. Without warning, he retched, barely leaning forward before he threw up on the floor in front of him. 

Die was there in an instant, pulling his hair back and pushing him forward enough that it wouldn't splatter back on him as he repeated the action several more times. Shaking, Makoto curled into Die's strong arms, recoiling from what he'd just done on the floor.

"It's okay... come on... let's rinse your mouth, alright?" Die eased him to his feet, moving him away from the area and to the sinks, easily turning on the faucet and rinsing his hand before cupping it and offering some water to him. He accepted it and they repeated it a few more times before his mouth tasted better, Die urging him to wash his hands and face, getting them both cleaned up and then taking him to sit on the lid of one of the toilets. "Can you get your pants zipped up or are the for sure broken?"

Fumbling, Makoto did his best, finally getting them buttoned, but not zipped. His hands shook something awful and without being really aware of it, he began to rock in place, his jaw working enough to make his cheek twitch. 

Die pulled his hair back and produced a tie from his pocket, easily putting it back and then lightly touching his hand. "You need to report him. I will, but without you... it won't come to shit."

Shaking his head, Makoto gazed at a spot somewhere past Die's shoulder. "I can't. It would ruin you all."

"He's already ruined us... and you, and all of this. I care more about you than as to what happens to the band because of it."

"No." Conviction became clear in Makoto's voice as he finally met Die's eyes with his own. "He wouldn't pay attention when I said no. But you will. I won't report him and you shouldn't bother to either. Just... I'm leaving. I'm walking away and you all find a way to get him help. I still don't believe that the man who did all of that to me was the same man I see the rest of the time." Resolve took hold and Gara stood up. He squared his shoulders and placed his hand on Die's shoulder. "Keep him from doing it again and get him the help he needs. I will find my own path and my own help to move forward. Just promise me you will."

"I promise," Die returned, his face clearly reflecting the fact that he didn't want to let it all go like this. He wasn't pleased with what was happening, but he was left little choice if the victim was unwilling to press charges. "Mako-"

"Gara... call me Gara. You get to, but he never will. Because you saved Makoto, you pulled him free of this life and let him go. Makoto walked in here today and Gara walks away."

Die simply nodded, watching as the other walked past him and out the door, his back ramrod straight and his head held high. 

**The End**


End file.
